


How to Build an Archivist

by monsterhugger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff, M/M, Medical stuff, Trans Elias Bouchard, Trans Jonathan Sims, top surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26121073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhugger/pseuds/monsterhugger
Summary: Jon gets top surgery and Elias cares for him afterwards.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	How to Build an Archivist

Jon never really intended to get top surgery. It wasn’t because he liked his chest or anything (he decidedly did not like it, in fact) but the hassle seemed too much to bother with for something that he felt would only be a minor improvement. Being tangled up in bureaucracy for years certainly didn’t sound fun, and he didn’t exactly have someone to take care of him afterwards if he actually went through with it. And, for a while, as trivial as it seemed, he shuddered at the thought of the scars.

Of course, now that his chest had been thoroughly scarred through other means, that last bit bothered him less.

He’d explained all this to Elias while sitting in his lap on the couch in Elias’s office. The explanation was, of course, unnecessary: Elias could simply _know_ why Jon had kept his chest as-is if he was really curious, and in all honesty he didn’t seem to be. It was just something for Jon to talk about, an excuse for him to be in his boss’s office, and between his boss’s thighs, and with his boss’s hands lazily stroking through his hair. Just being intimate was too much to ask for both of them, there had to be something more.

Elias dragged his fingers carefully through Jon’s hair. It was getting longer, well past his shoulders at this point, and it had decidedly turned from black-with-a-bit-of-gray to gray-with-a-bit-of-black long ago. Elias had asked him if he was going to cut it or dye it, and Jon had said no.

“Have you given up?” he’d asked, gently pulling Jon’s shoulders back, encouraging Jon to lean his weight against him.

“I don’t think so,” Jon had answered. “I just don’t see much point to it, really.”

“Hm.” Elias pulled a lock of Jon’s hair out of his face and pinned it behind his ear.

“Would you… like that? If I dyed my hair?” Jon asked.

“Why is that important?”

“You _know_ why.” Jon rested a hand on Elias’s thigh. Elias placed his hand on top of Jon’s, lacing their fingers together.

“What do you think this is, exactly?” Elias tugged Jon’s head to the side, leaning around to softly kiss his neck.

“Not love. Not exactly.”

“Not at all.” Elias gently maneuvered Jon’s body so that he could move down to kiss his collarbone.

“But you’re not just my boss, are you.”

“I was never _just_ your boss, Archivist. I’ve always had something special with you. Moulding you, building you into the beautiful creature you’ve become.”

“Using me. Holding me prisoner.”

“Is that _really_ how you want to see this relationship?”

“No,” Jon sighed. “No, it isn’t.”

He pulled Elias’s hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Ah,” Elias chided, guiding Jon’s hand back to his thigh. “Allow me.”

The rest was easy. Jon allowed Elias to turn him around, guide him to sit on his thighs, his knees resting next to Elias’s hips. When Elias first did this, Jon was tempted to drape his arms over his shoulders and pull himself closer, but now he knew to keep his hands at his sides and wait for Elias to guide them. He watched intently as Elias removed his tie and then began undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Jon watched him pull the fabric aside, showing off a thick line of scar tissue just below his nipple. Elias gently lifted Jon’s hand and placed it against his chest, right over that scar. The skin of his chest was smooth, almost hairless, and Jon briefly wondered if he shaved or just didn’t have much hair there. Elias moved his hand back and forth slowly, allowing Jon to feel the scar, to truly take in the even plane of his chest.

“You can tell me what you think,” Elias whispered.

“It’s… nice,” Jon replied. He didn’t move his hand on his own, but he pressed it firmly against Elias’s chest as the other man guided it back and forth. His chest was firm and slightly muscular.

“It’s very nice, isn’t it?”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Are you jealous?”

Jon sighed. He was certainly jealous, but what did that matter?

“I’ll live,” Jon muttered. He carefully moved his hand down, rubbing at Elias’s nipple with his thumb. Elias shivered, but didn’t pull his hand away.

“How sensitive are they?” Jon asked, pressing a bit harder.

“Probably not quite as sensitive as yours,” Elias replied. He gripped Jon’s hand a bit tighter, guiding his thumb in a circular motion around his nipple. Jon continued the motion dutifully. “That still feels good, though.”

“I can tell,” Jon said.

“That’s not a deal-breaker for you, is it?”

“Hardly. I mean, believe me, if I could have it done tomorrow, and I didn’t have to worry about all the maintenance afterwards, I’d do it. But that’s just not realistic.”

“Tomorrow? Certainly not tomorrow. Though if you’re worried about spending years jumping through hoops I can assure you that won’t be an issue.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not tomorrow, but… a few weeks from now, perhaps?”

“You’re telling me you know a guy.”

“You could say that.”

“And you know how suspicious that sounds, right?”

“I suppose it sounds a bit dodgy, but I trust him. I do know everything about him, after all. And you seem to be a fan of his work.”

Jon considered it. Of course Elias wasn’t always the most trustworthy person, but Jon couldn’t imagine why he’d lie about this, and if he thought- _knew_ , really-this mysterious surgeon was trustworthy, it had to be the case. Such was the nature of Elias.

“Still. I can’t really handle the recovery stuff on my own.”

“You won’t have to. I can put you up in my spare room, stay and take care of you, bring you whatever you need.”

“That’s quite a lot of time off. What about the Institute?” Jon ignored the prospect of staying in Elias’s home for that moment. He’d attempt to process that idea later.

“It’ll be in good hands. You don’t need to worry.”

“You could really do all that for me.”

“Yes, Jon. For you.” Elias placed his hand against the back of Jon’s neck and kissed his collarbone again. Jon shivered.

“For _me,_ ” Jon repeated. “I’m not doing this for you.”

“Fair enough.” Elias continued to nuzzle at his collarbone. Jon knew he was getting something out of this. It was too good to be true, and Elias was Elias, so he _had_ to be getting something out of this. But Jon figured he could handle that. For some reason, in his head, his boss getting uncomfortably close to him was a fair trade-off.

He didn’t tell the rest of the Archive staff about what was happening. None of them would be particularly upset if he disappeared for a few weeks, either because they actively wanted a break from him or just because it would mean less work. That was okay. Jon sympathized, and he had Elias to care about his whereabouts, after all. The thought of Elias being the only one who truly _cared_ about him felt odd at first, but after letting it sit for a few days it almost felt real. It definitely made Jon more comfortable with the idea of spending a few weeks in his home.

The day of the surgery itself was an awkward shuffle that Jon only remembered in glimpses. Not eating or drinking all day on top of already being generally sleep-deprived made everything a bit hazy. He knew Elias had led him to his car after work, and that he’d fallen asleep sometime between when they’d left the Institute and when they’d arrived at the hospital. He didn’t remember actually walking into the building, only waking up lying in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown and looking up at a man who must’ve been his surgeon. At some point he’d come to the conclusion that Elias had carried him in and changed him into the gown, though he wasn’t sure if he Knew that or just came up with it in his tired haze. He remembered Elias holding his hand a lot, and being too tired to pull away. He wasn’t scared to begin with, but at some point it seemed to become comforting.

Elias was holding his hand when he woke up, too. He stood next to Jon’s hospital bed, dragging his fingers through Jon’s hair and squeezing his hand tightly.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

Jon looked up at him blankly. Everything was still a bit hazy, his chest felt bruised and his stomach ached with what could’ve been either hunger or nausea. Elias’s use of the word ‘dear’ was not helping.

“Poorly,” Jon muttered, leaning back into the pillow.

“Give it a few minutes,” Elias said softly. “You’ll feel a bit better once the anaesthesia wears off.”

Jon nodded and squeezed Elias’s hand. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the bright light of the hospital room.

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, as he was lying in a different bed entirely when he opened his eyes. His chest still hurt like hell, but his stomach felt much better, and the light coming from the lamp on the bedside table was much more pleasant than the bright lights of the hospital room. Of course Elias was by his side, having pulled up a chair to sit next to him.

“You’re up,” Elias said.

“Mmph,” Jon replied. He shifted, trying to sit up, but Elias carefully placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Just stay nice and still, alright? It’s going to hurt if you move around too much. I’ve got some pillows so I can prop your head up.”

Jon allowed Elias to slowly lift him up and place a couple pillows beneath his head and shoulders, propping him up into something almost resembling a seated position. It still hurt to be jostled about, but Elias was careful and it was much less painful than trying to move himself.

Elias picked up a glass of water and a couple of pills from the nightstand.

“Can you take these?” he asked, holding them out to Jon. “Careful, don’t move your arms too much.”

Jon carefully took the items from Elias. The glass of water felt heavy in his hand. He took the pills one at a time, careful not to move his arms too quickly.

“Good,” Elias said, taking the empty glass and setting it down on the nightstand. “I’m going to empty your drains now. Just stay still, alright?”

“M-my what?” Jon stammered.

“Your surgical drains.” Elias picked up a small bulb that had been laying next to Jon in the bed, attached to him with a long clear tube and filled with some sort of red liquid.

“Ah. Right.” Jon leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes again, having no desire to actually watch this process.

“You’re doing very well,” Elias said when he’d finished, placing a hand on Jon’s chest. Jon could hardly feel it through the surgical binder and the layers of foam, but he figured it should have been comforting. “Are you hungry? I can bring you something to eat.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Jon replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to be afraid to ask if you need anything, you know. I’m here to take care of you.”

“That’s… that’s very nice, but I really just want to go back to sleep.”

“Alright. That’s alright.”

Elias stood up, taking the glass of water and leaving the room. Jon found himself missing him. He also found himself wishing he’d asked Elias to turn off the lamp, but it was dim enough he could still get to sleep with it on. The bed was very comfortable, and whatever medication Elias had given him was starting to kick in. Jon could get used to this, really.

When Jon woke up, Elias was once again in the chair next to his bed with another glass of water and more pills.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Jon asked groggily.

“Only a few moments,” Elias replied. “I knew when you’d be waking up.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s about three in the morning.”

“Oh. I don’t want to trouble you, then.”

“You’re not troubling me. I’m doing this for you. I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m quite alright, thank you.”

“Jon, look at me. You just had surgery. You’re in pain. I’m offering to take care of you. You need to let yourself be taken care of. Now I’m going to go back downstairs, and I’m going to make some coffee. How do you take yours?”

“You’re making coffee at three in the morning?”

“I’m awake now. Figured there was no point in going back to sleep. Now, are you going to tell me how you take your coffee?”

“I don’t really want coffee.”

“Tea, then? What kind?”

“English breakfast. With just a bit of sugar. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I’ll get right to it. And no, I don’t _mind._ We’ve been over this.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Elias returned with two mugs a few minutes later, handing one to Jon and taking a sip from the other. It was black coffee, Jon noticed, and as his mind wandered a bit further he realized there was no sugar in it either. He grimaced at the thought, but Elias seemed perfectly content sipping his coffee. Jon took a sip of his own tea. It had just the right amount of sugar in it. It was also the first thing he’d tasted besides water in over a day, which made it especially good. He thanked Elias profusely for it, but Elias was keen to continue to brush it off.

“I’m doing this for you, Jon,” he repeated. “Just relax, alright?”

The next few days were a blur. Mercifully so, really-Jon was more than content to have both the pain and the humiliation of being cared for by Elias pushed away in favour of a medicated haze. Elias was downright tender, sitting with Jon as he took his meds and ate his meals, emptying the surgical drains without so much as a word of disgust, brushing Jon’s hair from his eyes and tucking him in and kissing him goodnight. If Jon didn’t think Elias was getting something out of this before, he was sure that was the case now.

Jon was surprised that Elias actually had a doctor come in to see him and remove the drains, but in hindsight he really shouldn’t have been. It was Elias’s style after all, to bring a doctor to his bedside to care for him like a sickly Victorian child. He even held Jon’s hand as the doctor pulled out the surgical drains, which was uncomfortable but not nearly painful enough to warrant the praise and kisses Elias gave him afterwards. Jon’s hand was nearly as sore as his chest by the end of it from how tightly Elias had held it and from how much he’d been kissing Jon’s knuckles. He continued to hold Jon’s hand as the doctor took off the surgical binder and removed the foam beneath.

Actually seeing his chest for the first time was something else. It was still heavily bruised, but it was _beautiful_ , Jon couldn’t deny that. He carefully moved a hand up to touch it, to feel how smooth and flat his chest was, and it felt wonderful. He wanted to cry. He loved it.

Elias’s hand was on his chest only a few moments after his own, rubbing softly over the bruised flesh, prodding gently at Jon’s nipple. It was numb, but Jon didn’t let that worry him. He couldn’t. The whole thing was just too beautiful.

“My beautiful archivist,” Elias whispered. “My beautiful, perfect archivist. How do you feel?”

“Good,” Jon said softly. “I feel good.”

Once the drains were out and the pain had died down enough that Jon could move around on his own, he figured Elias would back off, but that apparently wasn’t the case. Sure, Jon could have changed the dressings on his chest by himself, but wasn’t it easier if Elias helped?

“Easier” was a word for it. Jon might have called it embarrassing, but he had to admit Elias stroking and kissing his chest twice a day was kind of nice.

Eventually Jon managed to convince Elias that he didn’t need to be brought his meals in bed anymore, and instead began eating meals with Elias in his dining room. The rest of Elias’s home was similar to the bedroom Jon had been staying in, oversized and well-decorated but not overly extravagant. Elias was clearly wealthy, Jon knew that, but even at the massive dining room table he didn’t feel small. They sat across from each other, just close enough to hold hands if they both reached across the table. Jon was getting quite used to eating one-handed.

Jon stayed with Elias for another week and a half before his chest had finally healed enough that he no longer needed the dressings. It felt like he should have gone home by then, but Elias never brought it up, and Jon found himself reluctant to leave.

“I’m going to need to pick up some more clothes from my flat if I’m going to keep staying here,” he mentioned at dinner one night.

“You can keep wearing mine,” Elias argued. “They fit you quite well.”

“I think I’d just rather have my own clothes,” Jon replied.

“But you will be back.”

“I suppose I will.”

Jon ended up back at work the next day, wearing his own clothes but still smelling of Elias’s home. No one asked him where he’d been. He didn’t feel like explaining. Elias called him into his office in the middle of the day and had him take off his shirt, just to admire his chest for a few moments. Jon tried to mind it, but he loved it. It felt good to be admired.

He was almost excited when Elias asked him to sleep in his bed that night.

Jon had been brushing his teeth, standing shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror for the sake of staring at his own chest. He was never a vain person, but he liked this little excuse to look at his chest every day. It was still a bit bruised, but it was as beautiful as ever. He’d gotten used to the scars. They weren’t much worse than the ones on his neck and shoulder, after all.

Elias walked in, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts himself. Jon was a bit surprised, but it wasn’t like he’d never seen Elias’s chest before. He stood behind Jon and stroked a hand through his hair.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” he asked. Jon’s eyes went wide. He quickly spit his toothpaste into the sink and looked at Elias in the mirror.

“Like… as in…” Jon muttered.

“In my bed,” Elias said. “As opposed to the spare room.”

“Oh. That sounds lovely, actually.”

“I’m sleeping in this,” Elias said, gesturing to his own body. “If that’s alright.”

Jon nodded.

“I suppose I may as well sleep like this too, then.”

“Yes, you may as well.” Jon saw the way Elias’s eyes lit up. The idea that Elias enjoyed seeing him like this still felt a little bizarre, but he didn’t mind.

Elias’s hands were on him the moment they crawled into bed. Not aggressively, just one hand around his shoulders and the other massaging his chest. It felt good. Jon reached out his own hand and placed it against Elias’s chest, and he heard him moan softly.

“You feel wonderful, Jon,” Elias whispered.

“You do too,” Jon whispered back.


End file.
